Flawed
by ataraxyy
Summary: - ChrisxClarisse - The imperfections in a person are what make them who they are.


**Characters: **Chris, Clarisse and mentioning of Silena**  
Summary: **The imperfections of a person make them who they are.  
**Pairings: ChrisxClarisse****  
Warnings/Spoilers: **SPOILER for TLO**  
Timeline: **After the Labyrinth**  
Disclaimer: **I do not own.

*****  
**FLAWED**

She seems so much more at peace when she sleeps.

Creases in her still juvenile face loosen up, lines of arrogance and worry die down to a smooth exterior.

One thing Chris notices is how much younger she looks. Years are taken off her with the simple relaxation of her facial muscles. Her expression lightens and she could almost pass for being a _normal_ kid.

Of course, _nothing _is normal with a community of children with blood of the Greek Gods running through their heated veins.

And most certainly, _nothing_ is normal with Clarisse.

)()()()()()()()()(

Clarisse may not be the prettiest girl in Camp Half-blood – Children of a god of War aren't expected to have the looks to die for.

That doesn't stop him falling for her though.

Her stringy brown hair, tall stature, built appearance and cold hard eyes don't scare him off. It's who she made herself become that draws him. He can't imagine how life_ before_ Camp Half-blood was for her. He's not sure why people dislike her. He surely can't find a reason to hold against her.

You don't really know a person until you walk around in their shoes.

)()()()()()()()()(

Clarisse's temper may be her downfall.

He knows that its part of her personality, a trait picked up – no doubt – from her godly father himself. Her hot-tempered and head-strong qualities make her a valuable ally, as well as a feared enemy. But it in his understanding that she has another side to her.

The more he spends time with her the more he sees the real Clarisse – someone that's a little afraid of the world of Greek deities and grotesque monsters. But he only manages to catch glimpse, it seems like the moment she lets her guard down she manages to raise her walls again and act like nothing happened.

Sometimes he wants to learn more about the Clarisse that lurks behind the fortifications that she shields herself with.

)()()()()()()()()(

'Rue' – her last name – means 'to regret'.

Chris hopes this isn't part of her persona because he hopes that _they_ aren't regretful. That would be disastrous.

It makes him think though. Has she ever regretted anything in her life? Chris can't imagine Clarisse to be an apologetic person, someone that lays their grief out for all to see. The only times he recalls this happening is when she was trying to save _him_ from delusional visions, tortured memories from the Labyrinth – somewhere he never hopes to see again.

The other time would be with the death of Silena Beauregard. Chris never knew that the relationship between the two had been so strong – it might be because of the not-so-secret infidelity between their godly parents – Ares and Aphrodite. He distinctly remembers her cries, pleas for Silena to stay amongst the world of the living. Choking on her own tears that stream down her face. It turned her into a different person – vulnerable and afraid.

He hopes to never see it again.

)()()()()()()()()(

It's a vital part of life as a demi-god, a necessity, a fundamental part.

Scars are worn to be sources of pride, or not, some even go unseen altogether – but it still doesn't prevent the fact that they're _there._

Clarisse is one that wears her scars with great self-importance and satisfaction. Red and white lines criss-cross, jagged and raised, old and new across her skin. Although. These aren't the only scars she bears.

He's seen her break down. She's more complex than she makes herself out to be. The scars run deeper than her exterior ones, these scars threaten to break her – make her fall apart at the seams.

He can only hope that being with her every step of the way will help her forget the past, move onto the future, keep her intact. Because together they'll take on whatever is thrown their way head-first.

)()()()()()()()()(

She may not be perfect, no one is.

But, the imperfections in a person are what make them who they are.


End file.
